


Over The Air

by FishLeather



Category: Original Work
Genre: Sci-Fi, and in part by Dial-Up internet access, inspired in part by Robot City, to be clear i'm writing by the seat of my pants, will amend tags as things come up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 16:13:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18720535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FishLeather/pseuds/FishLeather
Summary: Dial-up is outdated, isn't it? It was a way of forcing computers to talk to each other through a system meant for humans. Sound. Language. And if there's one thing humans are gifted in, other than egos, it's learning new languages.





	1. Chapter 1

The mechanic finally stood up, her back making a chorus of popping sounds in response to the last 2 hours of fiddling with the machine at an awkward angle. "I can try to receive the data now, but you might want to stand back, I'm not going to risk having it at a low volume-- I want to hear every last bit."

After a few nods, and one or two worried looks, she set the machine's output to play through the speaker. There was a flat tone, and she closed her eyes to concentrate. A short series of almost-notes played, and then it began in earnest. The communication started at a near whisper, the machine addressing her directly. There was a silence, and she nodded slightly, knowing it would make no difference. Humans were creatures of habit, it seemed. Another not-quite-melody played, steadily rising in volume as it dissolved into pure white-noise. It was like a wave that never hit the shore, like winter wind in your ears. Louder. A low roar joined in, then an unnatural, indescribable sound that sent shivers down every spine in the room but one. The machine continued uninterrupted, no one knew how long, the sound was so commanding, so loud it took up all the space in your head that was meant for thinking. For all the preparations, all the backup plans in case of failure, we hadn't put as much consideration into the chances of success.

None of us had moved, I thought, until I was nose-to-nose with the mechanic. Her eyes were open now. The sound hadn't stopped. She hadn't ended the communication. She hadn't responded to the machine at all. She hadn't done the procedure she once found embarrassing: speaking the language herself, listing what formats, speeds, and protocols she was familiar with. What she was able to handle. It was understandably difficult, her vocal chords weren't naturally gifted at these sounds. In the beginning, she had to use some kind of whistle to painstakingly plead whatever system she was working with to please slow down as much as possible. It was different, back then. No one spoke the language, not even crudely. She was the first. 

The sound filled the air like a swarm of first-gen nanobots. Somehow, it wasn't painful. Shouldn't it be? It can't be healthy hearing something louder than you've ever heard in your life. It can't be good when the sound seems to be coming from inside your head. I closed my eyes, and felt like I was floating in engine steam.


	2. Chapter 2

Nausea, and emptiness. A cold, flat surface. When I opened my eyes, I gathered that it was the floor of the terminal room. Absolute silence, accompanied by subtle vertigo and the sense that something very important had to be done. I managed to shift such that I was looking at the ceiling, rather than the floor, and that took about as much energy as I had. The room continued to swim in circles, at a thoroughly lazy pace. A soft echo gently curled up in my mind, replaying itself so quietly I barely even heard it. The floor was cold. I didn't shiver then, but when I tried to stand up, I quaked. I settled for an unsteady kneel, balancing on my knees as I leaned on the side of a processor cabinet. It felt like I was reading something, but when I looked around, there were no marks. There was still a faint whisper, too quiet to understand. For now. I held that position, and for a while, everything was still.

With great care and a bit of fear, I finally stood up, though pressing most of my weight on the cabinet I now had my back to. There was something important to do. The whispering echo agreed.

The workshop.

Crossing the threshold, I was the last to arrive. 5 sets of hands were already at work, tirelessly assembling individual devices. I took my place in the sixth seat, the far end of the rectangular table. Almost unnoticed, my hands received an unfinished device from the cartographer on my left. The repeating whispers told me what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbc, feel free to remind me if i haven't updated by 2020. i have a habit of forgetting where i was going with it.


End file.
